


Imperial Hotel

by woodrosegirl



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-06 21:52:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15894852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woodrosegirl/pseuds/woodrosegirl
Summary: Post S2E9 (The Thanksgiving Episode) Derek and Addison try to rip the stitches on their marriage. Explores how they may have gone from kissing outside the trailer at the end of S2E9 to being in a hotel at the beginning of S2E10. Rating will go up within the next couple of chapters.





	1. Chapter 1

**New mini story! So, I was re-watching Season 2, and I noticed that at the end of the Thanksgiving episode they leave Addison and Derek kissing in front of the trailer, the in the next episode (the next day presumably) Addison mentions to Derek that she didn't hear him leave the hotel, and then she missed him at breakfast. So how did they get from outside the trailer to Derek staying with her for the night at the hotel? The thought wouldn't leave me alone so this was born, just to 'fill in the gaps' This isn't going to be very long, probably only 4 or so chapters, and to everyone who reads 'New Beginnings' a new chapter will be up within the week. Title is from "Imperial Hotel" by Stevie Nicks.**

* * *

 

Rip the stitches, they'd said, no anesthesia they'd said. The process – calling sex a 'process' was bad enough – was supposed to be fast. Painful perhaps, but quick, and once over would hopefully bring a sense of relief. But it didn't seem to be happening, at least not the way Addison thought it would. The Thanksgiving lunch reservation had been long forgotten, all calls just directing straight through to Derek's voicemail. The longer she waits for him, outside of his trailer, the more painful the situation feels. He's not coming to rip the stitches yet, and the hurt burrows within her, meshing, binding deeper within her, like a stitch ingrained into skin. By the time she saw the headlights of his jeep swing past the trailer the hurt felt so buried into her that the welcome fog of anesthesia would be a relief. Anything to stop this pain.

She watches as he approaches and she can't read his face – When was the last time she _could_ read it? – She sits, almost defeated, no fight left inside of her anymore. There was no need for her to shout at him or question his whereabouts. She knew where he had been. No questions, no answers. Instead she lifts her eyes up to his encroaching figure, and, instead of berating him, simply asks. "Are you done Derek? Hurting me back I mean?"

There's no answer and he stands, leaning against the porch frame rain dripping down from his hair onto his jacket, pushing a hand idly through his drenched locks he simply takes a seat next to her. "Here we go" he says, and he leans towards her, softly finding her mouth with his whilst his arm moves to her torso, winding around the curves of her stomach, pulling her gently towards him, closing the gap between them. The feel of his lips caressing hers felt both familiar and strange all at once, and she can't remember the last time they had kissed – That day in the NICU- she suddenly thought – but she couldn't remember the last time in New York they had kissed like _this_ , with his tongue lazily slipping into her mouth, meeting with hers, battling against each other gradually. The last few months of their marriage was just a blur of pecks on the cheeks or lips a mere second long. She tried to turn her mind off and focus on the fact that the kisses she had missed so much were now playing out in front of her. She began to spend up the kiss, as suddenly all the pent up emotion she had felt sitting alone on the porch, and all those lonely nights in New York came to a head and she pushed himself into his embrace, kissing him forcefully and winding her arms around his neck, needing to feel his soft skin under the pads of her fingers. She crushed her hands into his hair, before reality crashed in as she realised her hands were soaking wet. She pulled away from him, chuckling softly. Derek gave her a sideways glance. "I'm glad you find my kissing so amusing" he said, sounding confused.

"It's not that" she said, "you're just all wet." She showed him her saturated hands. He glanced down at his clothes.

"I think my hair caught the brunt of it, but I should properly towel off and we can…." He cleared his throat. "Continue in the….in the warm." He got to his feet and walked into the trailer, Addison following behind him. Derek made a bee line for the bathroom, firstly handing Addison a towel to dry off her hands. He gestured her towards the bedroom. "I won't be long." She sat down tentatively on the bed, feeling confused and overwhelmed by the trailer. It symbolized a change in her husband, one that she didn't understand. It was Derek who decided on the brownstone with her because of the space it granted them back in New York, and now in Seattle… living in what essentially was a tin can in the middle of the forest…he seemed like a different person. One she didn't know anymore. Perhaps it was just _her_ , she mused. The brownstone fitted him back then because he wanted the space _from her_. She shook her head in an effort to rid herself of these negative thoughts, knowing full well that it was just the surroundings that were causing her to feel this way. Derek called out from the bathroom. "You okay Addie? I'll only be a couple of minutes."

"Yep…fine." She said, hoping her voice wouldn't betray the way she was feeling. Looking down at the bed she twisted her hands into the sheets, noting for the first time that they were freshly put on. New, and soft like the thread count she was used too, but the pattern was unfamiliar, not one that she would have chosen, but one that seemed to fit in with the whole tone of the trailer. If a stranger had walked into the trailer, they wouldn't be able to glean anything about his life. It was empty. Empty of her, she realised. Just like his life was for those few months before she turned up. Empty of her and full of Meredith. She turned towards the bed feeling her head spin as the truth dawned on her. He had slept with Meredith in this bed. It was horrible irony. She had slept with Mark in their marital bed, and now she was expected to sleep with her husband in the same bed where he had laid with his girlfriend. She blinked away tears as Derek exited the small bathroom.

"All dry" he said, smiling.

"That's great" Addison said, swallowing her emotion down and trying to disguise her voice so that Derek wouldn't recognise that anything was wrong. "These sheets are nice" she says, trying to stop her voice faltering.

"They're new" he says, sitting hesitantly next to her on the bed. "Are you ready?" he asks. She nods, not trusting her voice anymore and he leans in, recapturing her mouth with his, using his tongue to gently probe inside her mouth, searching for her tongue and sliding them together. Gently he maneuvered himself so that he was in front of her and he pushed her down onto the bed. As they continued to kiss Addison tried to focus on everything he was doing and enjoy the touch of her husband but, as he slid his hands up her waist and under her shirt, palming her soft breasts whilst also moving his lips down to her neck and kissing down her nape, all she could see was Derek and Meredith. Derek kissing Meredith on the bed. Derek running his hands under _her_ shirt. Suddenly she felt dizzy and nauseous, her chest tightening at the images in her head causing her to feel short of breath. "Derek stop" she managed to gasp, feebly pushing him off of her.

"Addie what's wrong?" his face hovered above hers, etched in concern at her sudden onset of panic. "Did I hurt you?" She shook her head.

"It's you…you and Meredith…..both of you….in this bed. I can't…I just can't…" She summoned the strength to stand and burst out of the room, desperate for fresh air. Once outside she sank down onto the porch, desperately trying to breathe deeply and quell the sick feeling that was growing in the pit of her stomach. Rip the stitches they'd said. He'd ripped something, but it wasn't stitches. He'd caused a new wound, deep and cavernous inside of her, and she had no idea how he would stitch it back up again.

* * *

  **Thoughts? It's a cliche but reviews make me write faster!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I’ve worked hard on this chapter, trying to get the characterisation and the situation on point. I hope I’ve done them both justice!**

* * *

 

Derek watched as his wife stumbled out of the bedroom, hearing the trailer door open and then bang shut, unsure as to what exactly had just happened to cause a sudden onslaught of panic. She’d garbled something about Meredith before pushing his hands away from her and fleeing from the room. He waited five minutes, and when there was no sign of her returning and giving an explanation for her actions he knew he would have to go and find out for himself. Cautiously he exited the bedroom and, peering out of the window in the kitchen, he saw Addison sat where he had previously found her, huddled on the porch, only this time her stare was blank, her body stiff.  He filled a glass full of water and swung open the trailer door. She didn’t move, not even acknowledging his presence. – Quiet, blank Addison was always a cause for concern. Crouching down to her level he pushed the water into her hands. “Sip it.” She drank a little before setting on the porch and nodded her thanks.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” She shook her head, and Derek noted that her breathing was still erratic. He sat down next to her properly and covered her hand with his, just a small amount of physical contact. He didn’t want to overwhelm her and inadvertently cause more panic. “Try and calm down Addie, deep breaths.” He sat quietly with her, and as the minutes passed by he heard her breathing calm, and slowly her eyes began to regain focus.

“When did it stop for you?”

Her sudden question, blurted out, surprised him.

“When did what stop?” he said, confused.

“After you found….” She couldn’t bring herself to say his name. _Mark._ “us, you said you felt nauseous….looking at me made you feel that way. I don’t feel nauseous when I look at you, but when I think about you….you and Meredith on…..on…” She wanted to say _“on that bed”_ but the bubble of panic descended on her again, and she felt her chest tighten. She waited a few moments before speaking. “I need to know when it goes away Derek, because if it doesn’t…it makes no difference if you’re done hurting me back or not. I can cope with that, but this, this feeling inside, I _can’t_ cope with this, and if it never goes away, then there’s no point to this…to any of this.”

She extracted her hand out of his light grip, and as the tears started to fall again, he knew, _truly_ knew that underneath the bravado, behind the mask she wore at work, that him sleeping with Meredith – Working with Meredith, _being_ with Meredith, bothered her. So much so that the sheer imagery of it sucked the air from her lungs and knotted her stomach. He should have been pleased – He _wanted_ to be pleased. Paybacks a bitch after all. However, he felt bothered that _she was_ bothered. It surprised him. He’d imagined it a few times, thought about how good the redemption would feel, however the stark reality of it, sitting on a cold and wet porch with her, listening to her hitched breaths, listening to her _break_ in front of him, felt like a hollow victory.

“I want to…I want go h-” The word _home_ stuck in her throat. “But we don’t have one anymore” she whispered. In any normal situation he would have come back with a salty _“And whose fault is that?”_  Instead he picked up her shaking hand and held it between both of his.

“It goes away. If it hadn’t of gone away, I would have signed the papers, and I wouldn’t be able to touch you, or kiss you.”

  _That day that she had been searching for him, and he had glanced up to see her standing in the gallery, a silent support. It was then that it had gone away for him._

“It gets better Addie, it does. I’m trying. This is hard for both of us, I know. But I am trying.”  He scanned her face quickly, half Doctor, looking for the onset of any further symptoms of a full blown panic attack, half husband, concerned for his wife. It was a fine line, one which had never been blurred until now. “It’ll be okay Addie, we can get through this.”

“H-how?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t actually think that this would bother you….not this much. The Meredith thing….I just…I just didn’t think.” He sighed, unsure of what else to say, nothing he was saying seemed to be calming her. Her left hand was still between his, and he felt the sharp cold of her rings against the palm of his hand. Her fingers were cold, and still shaky. “Addison we need to go inside, you’re freezing.” He noticed that her shirt was still undone from before, no doubt causing her to feel the cold further. Calmly, he reached over and buttoned it up for her. “Come on” he said in what he hoped were encouraging tones. “Just come and sit inside, we don’t have to do anything. Just come and sit inside” he repeated. 

She looked up at him, and although her eyes were still teary, they had lost that glassy unfocused look of panic. She shook her head violently.

“I can’t Derek. Not right now.”

She stood up and crossed her arms over her chest, tucking her hands neatly into opposite elbows. Turning away from Derek she stared out into the black vast distance.

“We never really got rain like this back in New York did we? I mean it _rained_ but this rain, it feels different. Back h – In New York” she corrected herself. “The rain, it’s always bouncing off of things, sidewalks, cars, steps. It seems to bounce off these things and somehow gets you even more soaked”

As she said that, the image of her standing on the steps of their brownstone sprang forth into his mind. He understood what she meant. The rain was bouncing off of their steps that night. She was completely saturated by the time he let her back in, even though she had only been outside for a mere minute. He still remembered how wet her arms were when she had held onto his face.

He looked up at her to se her still staring out at the landscape pensively. “The rains different here.” She repeated. “There’s nothing for it to bounce off of. It just falls to the ground. No support, nothing steady for it to come into contact with.”

“I understand” Derek said quietly. And he did, it was a metaphor for how she felt being in Seattle.

“Do you? Do you Derek? You didn’t actually answer my earlier question.” She turned around to face her husband. “Are you done hurting me back? Because I’m like the rain here, I don’t have anyone here to bounce off, to support me. I will just fall.”

He studied her face. Her eyes were puffy and slightly red but she looked young. Young and emotionally vulnerable; just how she had looked back in medical school when they had their first proper fight.

  _That was partly Mark’s fault too. He was due to meet_ _Addison_ _for dinner after a late class, but it was unexpectedly cancelled, and instead of using the extra 2 hours to study, Mark had goaded him into going to a bar and had poured double scotches down his neck. Derek, under the impression that they were singles and, not being aware of his own tolerance or knowing that drinking strong liquor on an empty stomach was not a good idea, merely drank along with Mark, not realising how wasted he was until he left the bar and the cold fresh air hit him. He woke up the next morning, on Mark’s floor, bleary eyed and with a headache that made him feel like there was a tiny builder inside his head, attacking his skull with a jackhammer, with no recollection of the rest of the evening. After he’d thrown a significant amount of coffee down his throat and his ears could tolerate the timbre of human voice, Mark gleefully informed him that once Derek had stumbled into the restaurant – late, and smelling like the floor of a scotch factory – Addison had promptly thrown her drink in his face and told him that she never wanted to see him again. He had then gone back to the bar and proceeded to continue drinking, to the point where Mark had to carry him back to his room, where he had proceeded to pass out on the floor. Mark of course, found the whole situation hilarious, telling Derek that ‘this is what you do in college’_

_He went straight to see Addison, after Mark had finished filling in the alcohol induced amnesia gaps in his memory, full of apologies and swearing down that Mark was a terrible evil influencer, and that he’d never let him interfere in their relationship again. He promised her then and there that he wouldn’t let her down again. Two promises’ that didn’t stay true. He had let her down in_ _New York_ _, over and over again, and had allowed Mark to come between them once again. Only this time it was worse, because_ _Addison_ _had allowed him too._

She wore the same expression on her face now as she had done when she had eventually opened the door to him that morning. However, this time he could actually do something about it. Her question hung in the air.

“Addison, I’m sorry about today, and the answer to your question is yes. I don’t want us hurting each other anymore.”

He stood up and crossed over to her, pulling her left hand into his, feeling the cold metal of her wedding band between his fingers.

“I can’t stay here though Derek, at least not tonight. Not right now.”

He understood, the wound was still raw, and open. It needed time to heal. They needed time to heal.

“Okay, where can I take you then?”

She smiled the first smile that he had seen all evening.

“Anywhere but here sounds great”   


	3. Chapter 3

His behaviour on the porch surprised her. It wasn’t at all what she had expected – She wasn’t exactly sure _what_ she had expected but kind words and caring physical gestures weren’t it.  Usually he was indifferent to the way that she was feeling, with his usual patter of “Not now Addison” alongside him also ignoring the emotions that were plainly written all over her face. That was his normal behaviour back during those last few dark months in New York. She expected that familiar, almost awkward distance from him tonight, after all, missing out on special occasions was his customary behaviour.

_His behaviour……._

She couldn’t quite place when, back in New York his behaviour had begun to change, or why. She’d gotten used to masking her emotions when she realised that getting upset over missed dinners or nights spent in the hospital, just seemed to be pushing him further away. Wine helped. It was also easier to completely switch off her emotions, or pour her heart out to Mark over bottles of wine and dinners that had stagnated waiting for a husband that never showed. She began to realise that this ensured that all negative emotion had been drained out of her by the time Derek eventually came home. She was just an empty shell. Not that he seemed to notice the difference. He didn’t notice much about her at that point. The only thing he had picked up on was the fact that his wife seemed calmer, towards him almost to the point of vacancy, but he merely put that down to long hours spent at work. What he didn’t realise was that as he grew more absent, it was only pushing her closer to Mark.

But here there was no Mark, no Savvy, or Weiss or anyone to fall back on. It was just them, and tonight wasn’t the time to dwell on mistakes of the past, even though Derek’s fling – or whatever it was, she really had no idea – had been playing out in her mind as soon as she had stepped foot into the trailer. Going into tonight, she knew that either way, they needed to move past both Meredith and Mark and be together, because the past would continue to define them unless they started to move forward. Tonight was their chance to do this, and the way he listened to her -  really seemed to listen and respond to her gave her hope that  they would be able to begin moving forward. It was a small glimpse of the Derek that she had fallen in love with, not the shadow that she had lived with during those last months in New York.

They drove to the Archfield in a muted but comfortable silence. Her eyes drifted to the window to watch the rain drip down against the glass but she found the gentle patter of it more relaxing now. Occasionally her eyes would glance over to Derek’s left hand, which was on the steering wheel, and they would lock onto a specific point there. His wedding finger now had a gap where his gold band would have usually laid, but instead of the shiny band standing for their union there was a band of pale skin. It stood out blatantly against the normal colour of the rest of his skin. It looked strange to her, his hand seemed incomplete. She’d kept hers on; taking them off seemed symbolic that the marriage was over, and she wasn’t accepting that without at least fighting for it first. She wondered idly what had happened to his, not that she had any right to ask. At least not yet. Was it removed in a fit of anger when he left that night, or was it calculated, removing it secret as soon as he saw Meredith in the bar? Neither of those scenarios were good, especially the last one. But she couldn’t ask, and truthfully, she wasn’t sure whether or not she wanted to know the answer.   

* * *

 

She’s not the only one staring. He steals glances at her, in-between watching the road. The further he drives her away from the trailer the more relaxed she seems to be, her body more pliant, molding into the seat, and he’s relieved to see her eyes have lost that glassy stare, and she’s focusing on actual objects -the rain outside the window seems to hold a certain fascination – but he also sees her taking furtive looks at his hands.

“Something on there?” he asks.

She looks up from the window.

“On what?”

“On my hand…you’re kinda staring at it.”

“Oh” she looks almost guilty that she was caught out. “No….quite the opposite really.” He glanced down, momentarily confused until he sees what she was looking at. The band of white, almost like a halo, standing out starkly on his left hand.

“Oh….that…” he said lamely.

_Was that all the wedding ring had been reduced too? Just an ‘oh….that’_

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and placed his hand into his lap, shading it from her view. “So..” he cleared his throat. The air had grown somewhat thick, and he wanted to alleviate the tension before the night was completely ruined through awkwardness.

“The Archfield, did you find that in your best of Seattle guide?” 

Addison laughed slightly.

“Actually yes, and it was the only one I could find that had a decent thread count on the sheets.” Derek had to smile, that was typical Addison. “Well” she continued “If I have to live in a hotel, I want it to be the best.”

“You’re not _living_ there Addison.”

“Really? Because I don’t live in New York, I don’t live in your _trailer_.”

She said the word bitterly. It didn’t go unnoticed.

Derek sighed. “Well yeah…I guess you do.”

For some reason it had never occurred to him to question Addison’s living arrangements. He felt the familiar knot in his stomach that he had experienced out on the porch. _Guilt._ Guilt that she had been in Seattle for….how many weeks? He wasn’t sure. Was he really that oblivious to her life? To her actions? The answer to both questions was _yes_ which didn’t help the knot in his stomach.     

* * *

 

Addison cast a glance at him as they drove nearer to the Archfield, seeing something written on his face that she hadn’t seen in a long time.

_Emotion – Guilt._

She didn’t like it, but she thought she would have. Back in New York all she wanted was a realisation from him, now she seemed to have it, and it didn’t feel good. 

_The second hollow victory of the night._

Sighing she turned her attention back to the rain pattering on the windows. The rain had calmed now, no longer the torrent that was pouring down on them on the porch. If she was looking for metaphors, then that would be one. She also felt calmer, more composed.

“It’s not that bad.” She found herself saying, just to fill the silence. “I don’t have to do any cleaning.”

“Since when did you clean anyway?”

“I clean when I have too.” She said, defensively. “I just prefer not to spend my free time cleaning unless I have too.”

“Well, lucky the trailers small, so there’s not much cleaning to do.”

“Well I don’t live there.” The word _yet_ stuck in her throat. She had no idea if she would ever be ready to call it home. Thankfully the Archfield loomed into the distance. “However I do live there. For now.”

* * *

She took a deep breath as she pushed the electronic key into the small opening, waiting for the beep before opening the door.

“So, this is it.” she said, entering the room and placing the keycard on the table. She stood nervously next to it, tapping her foot. She had thought that being in more of her own environment would help her feel less awkward, but the conversation and her thought processes during the car ride had brought up a few sore points, and the other problem, she now realised was that a hotel room was just that. A room. Nowhere to hide. Unless one of them hid in the bathroom.

“Do you want something to eat? I could order room service?”

“No that’s okay.” He said. “Although I could use a drink.” Addison nodded and pointed to the mini bar.

“It’s fully stocked.” 

One thing Addison did like about hotel rooms – she had to admit – was that you could leave the room, and then, as if by magic when you returned; the bed would be made, rubbish tidied away, mini bar restocked, like all traces of the previous day and night erased, wiped clean. Like a never-ending whiteboard of life. It was like someone hit the refresh button everyday, and the room was back to being a blank canvas.  She watched as Derek busied himself with the mini bar and she suddenly felt the need to also busy herself.

_What was that saying? Idle hands are the Devil’s playthings? Guess that was her problem back in_ _New York_ _….._

It wasn’t so much her hands, but her mind. Was there a saying about idle minds? If there was, she couldn’t recall it, which seemed ironic. She took her shoes off, lining them up neatly by the table and sat down on the bed, feeling cold. Derek hadn’t put the heat on in the jeep.

“Do you want ice?”

“Huh?”

“In your scotch.” He explained.

“Oh, no thanks. It’s cold in here. ”

He poured two measures out into the glass tumblers and handed her one of them.

“Cheers….I guess”

“To us having sex again” She said wryly, raising her glass up to his.

They both drained their drinks, clearly both needing slight Dutch courage, and he poured them another one before sitting down next to her on the bed.

“Do you feel ready?” he asked. She nodded as he rubbed his hand up her arm and leant in for a kiss before quickly pulling away. “You’re freezing” he said. It was then she realised that her clothes were still damp from sitting on the porch.

“I’m just going to take a quick shower.” she said, escaping his hold and standing up. Her husband nodded, “I’ll be here.”

_“I’ll be here…” when was the last time he had said that and meant it?_

She bit back that thought, nodding at him and crossed into the en suite, stripping off her moist clothing and turning the shower on. The hot streams of water coupled with the steam soothed her cold body and she lent back onto the wall, closing her eyes momentarily, and trying to erase all thought of Mark, and Meredith from her mind. Once her mind had cleared she stepped out of the shower and surveyed her naked body in the mirror. Her body hadn’t changed since the last time he had seen it – slightly thinner in places due to stress but that was all. Taking one last long critical look in the mirror she pulled one of the hotel robes around her, flipped her hair, and walked back into the room.                                                 

It was now or never.


End file.
